Chapter Eight #3
“Please remove the crowns,” the goddess asks, and the four rulers use both hands to lift the symbols of their reign into the air.
The goddess waves a hand, and magic swirls around the four frozen people.
I see Lucas sag slightly before he straightens and stands tall.
Apparently having the magic removed from you is both painful and freeing.
The magic swirls around, and the crowns begin to fall apart, becoming one with the swirling magic.
A portion breaks off and shoots up into the sky through the open roof in search of the new chosen king or queen, while the remaining magic whirls furiously, growing so large, the king and queens need to step back off the dais.
The crowd murmurs loudly, and I look at Gem, our resident genius bookworm. “What’s happening?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off the spectacle. “This is when we find out how many mates the new king or queen will have.”
“It’s pre-decided?” Brodie asks, frowning. “I thought the ruler got to choose.”
“They do get to choose the individuals, but not the number—that is determined by magic.” He waves a hand, shushing us, so I turn my attention back to the platform.
The magic finally settles, and in its place is one large crown—the ruler’s crown.
It’s hard to tell whether it’s more masculine or feminine, which I heard was a good indicator of whether a male or female was chosen, but what happens next has the crowd gasping and surprised chatter breaking out despite the goddess’s presence.
Floating on either side of the large crown are six smaller ones, three on each side. “Holy crap, six consorts,” Gem mutters. “There has never been a king or queen with that many consorts.”
The magic fades, the goddess waves a hand, and all seven crowns rest on busts surrounded by glass.
The magic surrounding her person clears, and we finally get a look at the goddess.
She’s tall, probably seven feet, with a body made for sin, all curves and long legs and lush, flowing gold hair.
Her face is so perfect, it’s almost hard to look at.
She has a smile on her face, which I would say borders on mischievous.
“Ah, six consorts. Yes, that seems like a perfect number for my new chosen. I’m really going to enjoy watching this play out.
It’s going to be very interesting,” she murmurs almost to herself before facing us and raising her hands.
“Please join me in thanking your king and queens.” Magic shoots out of her fingertips, and fireworks explode in the air as the crowd bursts into applause.
“I will be watching closely. Remember, I am never too far away,” she reminds the crowd, but she turns to look at our bond group, and I feel like she’s staring directly into my soul for a moment before her gaze slides away and she fades as quickly as she first appeared.
The band starts up again, and the applause dies, so I tune into the speculation.
“There has never been so many consorts,” a man behind us murmurs.
“No, usually it’s three,” his female companion replies. “What does this mean?”
“It can’t be anything good,” the man says, and I feel a pang of dread. Great, just what we need, shifters speculating.
“I wonder when they will start appearing?” I turn around to look at the couple discreetly. The woman is craning her neck like they will start appearing at any moment.
“Pfft, everyone knows the marks don’t start appearing until the king or queen has stepped across the threshold of the castle.
” Gem glares at the people. “I really do pity the poor chosen. I’m almost certain there will be double the amount of marked consorts for them to choose from.
The goddess wouldn’t be so cruel as to give her a small amount to select from.
It’s going to be a circus here while they try to woo them. ”
“I wonder if we can get an assignment that takes us far away,” Gryffin murmurs. I know he doesn’t care about being picked as a possible consort, still determined to search for that elusive sixth. Damn him.
“What’s to say none of us are going to be marked?” I spit out, being argumentative because he pissed me off.
“Members of bond groups are never marked because we already have a predetermined mate, and it would mean tearing the group apart,” Hunter reminds me.
“Well, that really is unfortunate, isn’t it?” I mutter, and Brodie elbows me.
“I need to go check on my parents,” Gryffin says stiffly before leaving us.
“Damn it, Liam. Let’s get through the next couple of weeks, and then we will sit down and talk to him.
Maybe we can find a way to finally get him to give up this wild goose chase.
Maybe the witch queen can help us when she arrives for the coronation, whether to confirm or deny the reading and help us track them,” Gem suggests and follows Gryffin.
A wave of guilt washes through me, and I feel awful. I hate picking fights with Gryffin, but I can’t seem to help it.
“Now that that’s over, let’s shift and go for a run. Maybe your bear will feel better after,” Brodie suggests, and I grasp the idea like it’s a lifeline.
“Yes, thank you,” I agree, and I don’t even wait to say goodbye to anyone. I make my way through the ballroom, ignoring people I know, with only one thing on my mind—shifting and running, hoping like hell it will even out my mood, or maybe our bond group will end up broken anyway.